04/09/2026
It's been seven days since Mabel took her final sleep.
I don't really know how to write this post. I've written a lot of them over the years, and none of them have been this hard.
Mabel was thirteen. She lived a long, happy, thoroughly loved life, and I know that's supposed to make this easier. It doesn't, not really. But I wanted to write something anyway, because she deserves it, and because so many of you knew her too.
I signed her up to Borrow My Doggy when I first went back to work, mostly so she'd get a good walk each day while I was busy. That's all it was meant to be. But it turned out the thing that was good for Mabel was something much bigger for the people who walked her.
One of them was a young woman with additional needs called Rebecca who wasn't allowed a pet of her own where she lived. Mabel became her dog, in every way that mattered, for as long as they had together.
That was Mabel all over; she didn't know she was "helping." She just loved whoever was in front of her, completely and without conditions, and somehow that turned out to be exactly what people needed.
She was part of the fabric of this place. She knew Newport. She knew Wickham Hall. Every extension of The Residence became another family for her to fold herself into, and every dog that came through our doors became a friend.
She had regular little escapes to Rosey Lea Ltd across the road where, let's be honest, she knew exactly what she was doing, sitting there with those big brown eyes until someone shared their lunch. She wasn’t daft. Just endlessly, shamelessly hopeful that someone had a bit of chicken going spare.
She gate-crashed the The Women In Business Network (WIBN) lunches for years, hoping for scraps of sandwich. She could leap up and grab a low-hanging croissant off a table faster than any of us could stop her. She never once judged anyone who walked through our doors, whatever kind of day they were having. She just saw a person, and loved them.
Her love was unconditional, and her heart was huge, bigger, honestly, than seemed possible for such a little dog.
At home she claimed the end of our bed as hers, no negotiation. Outside, on our street, she used to let herself visit our neighbours' children, wander straight into their houses, and play with their kids like she'd been invited all along. Everyone on that street looked forward to her visits as much as we did.
I think that's the thing I want people to take from her. Mabel didn't do anything complicated. She was kind, and she looked for kindness, and she gave everyone the same warm welcome regardless of who they were or what kind of day they were having. If there's a legacy in that, and I believe there is, it's this: we could all stand to be a little more Mabel.
Thank you to everyone who loved her, fed her scraps she definitely wasn't supposed to have, and gave her a family far bigger than one barn could hold.
I also can’t write this without a special thanks to Bishop's Stortford Veterinary Hospital for caring for her throughout her life, like she was their own 🥹
Run free, Mabel. We miss you already 💔
